Like many people, I knew nothing about the heat crisis in U.S. prisons for most of my life. I first learned of the heat crisis in U.S. prisons in early 2016, when I started teaching at a maximum security prison in South Texas. I taught creative writing there for almost seven years, and every summer my students would write about the daily torture they endured, locked in a facility without air conditioning, where temperatures often topped 110 degrees Fahrenheit. The heat gave them searing headaches and blurred vision, dizziness and nausea, as well as a despair that their society could allow such cruel treatment, ignoring their basic human rights. It was not just a physical torture, but also a psychological punishment, a message that they were subhuman. Such temperatures would violate
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My students were far from alone in this suffering. Every summer, people in many U.S. prisons are forced to take drastic measures: flooding their toilets to lie down in the slightly cooler water, wrapping wet rags around their limbs, spending their meager prison wages (usually less than a dollar an hour) to buy fans that actually increase the problem, circulating rather than cooling the stifling air. Many stop taking their medications, as this would put added strain on their hearts, which can prove lethal if added to the coronary strain of the heat. Now and then people do die, usually of cardiac incidents, though prison authorities often deny this is related to the heat torture. As a 2023 study from academic journal PLOS ONE
My purpose here is not to dwell on the basic facts of the prison heat crisis, which have been
With its rising number of deaths, Texas prisons have received a
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These facts are tragic enough, but there are wider implications to the crisis. In her groundbreaking book, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness, legal scholar Michelle Alexander wrote about the troubling demographics of U.S. prisons, which incarcerate minorities at a much higher rate than the white population. “The United States imprisons a larger percentage of its black population than South Africa did at the height of apartheid,” Alexander explained. “These stark racial disparities cannot be explained by rates of drug crime. Studies show that people of all colors use and sell illegal drugs at remarkably similar rates. …In some states, black men have been admitted to prison on drug charges at rates 20 to 50 times greater than those of white men.”
This excessive imprisonment of minorities began in the 1860s, just after the purported “end of slavery.” In Tennessee, for instance, the prison population under slavery was less than 5% Black; a year after the Civil War, that number had jumped to 52%; by 1891, it was
It is common for white Americans (often raised on simplistic history texts) to think that injustices like this stopped in the 1960s, with the victories of the Civil Rights Movement. In fact, the most shocking prison statistics come from the 1980s-2000s, when the “War on Drugs” swelled our penal population from around 300,000 to over 2 million, the highest in the world. Not surprisingly, much of that rise came from minority drug convictions. For Black men born in 1981,
These racial statistics should reframe the discussion of the prison heat crisis. Yes, we should install air conditioning in every U.S. prison; yes, we should pass federal laws for prison temperature standards. But we must also examine the insidious patterns of racism in our nation, where we not only incarcerate a disproportionate number of minority citizens, but then submit them to month after month of literal torture, living conditions that would qualify as
Over the past few years, we have decried the suffering of Palestinian and Ukrainian citizens; we have criticized Russia and Israel for their human rights abuses. Without question, this outcry is necessary and just. But at the same time, we have ignored the hundreds of thousands who suffer from heat torture in our prisons, many from minority groups that have been targeted and oppressed for all of U.S. history.
That this causes no real scandal is a flagrant sign of our racism. Every year, there is a trickle of news stories about the crisis (John Oliver ran a
In a moment like this one, where human rights abuses fill our newsfeeds, nearly all of us feel powerless and overwhelmed. But we are not as voiceless as those who suffer in our prisons, and prison reform is possible with enough pressure on our politicians. After a sanction from the Justice Department, Mississippi began last year to install air conditioning in all its prisons; in Texas this year, the state House passed a bill to spend $545 million on prison air conditioning (though this was then